Laurel Lane

Laurel Lane

June 15, 2014

J. Glenn Eugster

As we crossed the railroad tracks and drove along the two-lane road toward our new home I knew that more than our address had changed.  Laurel, NY was a the hamlet my parents chose to buy their first home in.  Located almost ten miles east of Riverhaed on Long Island’s North Fork  the community we were about to call home was famous for the potato harvest and summer tourism.  What struck me right away about this area was there weren’t many people around.  

Laurel Lane was one of the road we took from 25 A East  to Peconic Bay Blvd. and eventually our home on North Oakwood Road.  More than any other road Laurel Lane made an impression on me.  The road was long, straight and for the most part without homes.  As we made a left turn on to the Lane, across from the Laurel Post Office, there were three homes and some outbuildings.  A short distance beyond these buildings there was a railroad crossing and a potato warehouse.  After you crossed the line there were no buildings only potato and strawberry fields and one wood lot.

The year we arrived in Laurel I was on my way to entering the 4th grade.  I wasn’t worldly but we had lived on Waldo Street and South St. in East Hills just off Glen Cove Road.  It was a suburban part of Nassau County with a constant stream of cars,  taverns with shuffleboard tables, teenage girls standing under street lights and lots of houses with people.  While in East Hills we regularly traveled short distances north to visit my mother’s family in Greenvale, and south to visit my father’s family in Westbury.  Each trip made my head swivel as I took in the sights, sounds and smells of this part of New York.

My memories of Laurel and the North Fork are considerable and for the most part my parents decisions to go east brought good things into my life.  The 50’s and 60’s were an exciting and challenging time to be growing up and Laurel shaped much of who I am.  Since our parents died in 1979 I rarely get back to visit the area that I lived in from the time I was 7 until 19 years old.  Many changes have occurred in Laurel and on the North Fork and it isn’t for me to judge whether the changes are for better or for worse.  Laurel Lane seems to have retained a good deal of its character over the last 60 years and a real or imagined visit to this road gives me a chance to reminisce about how wonderful things were back then.  More often than not we sort our subconscious and hang on to the good times while we archive the times that weren’t so good.

Laurel Lane helped define what this place meant to me.   Although it wasn’t the most interesting route on the North Fork it became familiar and comforting to me.  Time and time again when we traveled west to visit civilization it was the last right turn we made before we arrived at home.  More than the scattered development along route 25 A it was the potato landscape that I would learn to know and love.   The farms on both side were constant reminders of the seasons bringing the sweetness of spring and aroma of freshly turned soil.  Whether I walked, rode a bike, or drove with the windows open the road always had a different feel to it.

As I explored Laurel and the surrounding communities I traveled on dirt roads, along the edges of and across farm fields, meandered along trails that were barely visible, and on the railroad tracks.  Moving across the ground, often with the experienced naturalists Dave and Steve Nostrom, I was able to see, hear, taste and feel the place that I called home.  It was more about experiencing the routes than getting from one place to another.  The ultimate destination may have been the reason for my trip but the journey was oh, so much more important.

Over the 11 years I lived in Laurel I came in contact with many of the Laurel Lane experiences.  The road and what it reminds me of remains vivid.  At the 25A end of the Lane I recall the Post Office with Charlotte the Post Master, and her penny candies.  I would eventually get to know Curtis Francis and Roscoe Strickland who lived in houses on or nearby the Lane.   I would play soccer in high school for two years with Roscoe and never stopped being impressed with his talent, wisdom and sense of humor. 

I recall the sound of the  potato packing house when the summer-fall harvest was in.  The sweet smell of the soil and the spuds, along with the sounds of the workers brought a burst of life to part of the Lane.  Across the tracks from the potato fields I recall sitting with Eddie Bauman and Ricky Elliott and listening to them identify cars in the dark based on their lights and the sounds they made.  Nearby Steve Nostrum and I would crawl in a serpentine manner along the rows of the strawberry fields eating the fresh berries until our hands and mouth were red and our stomachs swollen.

Occasionally we would make a left at the intersection between the lane and the railroad track and walk the rails until they came to another less traveled unpaved road which ultimately connected with North Oakwood Road. This route went by the “Haunted House” which always gave me a scary rush as we walked by.

Laurel Lane continued through the farm fields eventually passing a woodlot on the left.  The lot was thick with understory and canopy vegetation which made it a place to relieve yourself if you needed to do so.  It was also a place to be wary of since others used its protection and privacy for other purposes.

Across from the woodlot was a farm road that led to a gas pump for farm vehicles.  The road also led to paths along the edge of the farms eventually leading to North Oakwood Road.  If it wasn’t dark this was the most direct route home.  On occasion there were large piles of potatoes behind some hedgerows with signs warning people not to eat them. 

Laurel Lane gradually intersected with the Peconic Bay Blvd which connected Riverhead with Mattituck.  The Lane continued a short distance until it dead-ended at the Great Peconic Bay.  Several manicured seasonal homes were along this portion of the Lane, one of which had a large privet hedge to screen and protect the property.  The end of the road at the edge of the Bay was 10-15 feet above the small beach below and offered a window of the Peconic and its shorefront.

The end of the Lane was also a place where Dave Janisko and I slaughtered dozens of horseshoe crabs in a fit of environmental ignorance;  Steve and I would float on small icebergs;  Pete Lutz and I would use one night as an escape route from angry neighbors; and I would talk with an old flame in her car, well into the night, until the police came looking for her.  

A right turn onto Laurel Lane from Peconic Bay Blvd. was also a reminder of what it felt like to leave North Oakwood Road and Laurel.  Driving north toward 25A often gave me a sense of freedom but the feeling was never as comfortable as the same drive going south.  Perhaps arriving was shaped by the newness of the place, my youth and innocence, and the excitement of the wonderful rural landscape.  No matter, the connections I made with the people, places and events of Laurel remain whether I am near or afar.

Reflecting on Furloughs

Reflecting Furloughs

J. Glenn Eugster

October 3, 2013

I worked for the federal government from 1976 until 2008 and I believe that I witnessed everything at least twice. The feds were furloughed 17 times during my career. The longest time was in 1996 when we were out for 21 days. Most of the time it was no big deal because the work belonged to us and we decided where and when it would be done. True the government and Congress own the buildings, desks, cars, phones, copy machines and computers, but the work has always belonged to the workers.

Early in my time the President hired Jim Watt to lead the Department of Interior. His approach was to threaten everyone with a "reduction in force". Frankly that administration didn't believe what we were doing was necessary. The threats worked and 12 of my staff of 15 left voluntarily for fear that they would be "reduced". From that experience we were more determined not to let politically-motivated people take our jobs from us. You see we were public servants and we believed in the idea of working in the interest of the public. The free-market system can do a lot of things but it cannot represent the public interest in America.

Some days during this period the situation was dismal. Once, with a death-wish in our heart, we organized a workers-strike--complete with a signed resolution, and walked off the job one afternoon. Luckily we reconsidered before anyone knew we were gone.

When we recovered from the Watt years we accepted the fact than many federal agency managers were mean-spirited with agendas which were more political that public. We grew our budget to over 2 million dollars and hired a staff of 43. We recruited people who believed that their work was important. Our belief was grounded in our legislative mandates and the strong support we received from state, local and private leaders across the U.S.

When you are working as a fed and a furlough comes it turns-you-around. Some people find the experience not worth the trouble and move on to the private sector or other levels of government. For those of us that braved the storms of uncertainty we took refuge in our belief that it is an honor to serve our country and the work was what made the good times and the hard times worth it.

Those on furlough today need to use their down-time to think about what motivates their interest in federal service beyond a job or a paycheck. Finding a job is easy. Finding a job that makes a difference and that you have a passion for is more of a challenge. No matter what, until you decide differently, the work belongs to you.

Good Friends, Gone--Ian McHarg

         

             An Open Space in Chester County

           

       

             On Saturday March 10, 2001 at the London Grove Friends Meeting Hall in Chester County,Pennsylvania there was a Memorial Service for Ian Lennox McHarg. Some said that this part of the Chester County landscape was similar in appearance to the rolling hills, towns and forests of Scotland where he once lived before coming to America.  If that is so, it's easy to understand where some of Mr. 

             McHarg's inspiration came from.

                  

             The location was only exceeded by the quality of the day.  Spring was alive in 

             the trees, shrubs and wildlife despite a chill in the air.  The air blew clean, clear and strong on occasion but the sky, more than anything was 

             reason to pause.  The day fit the man. 

                  

             More than two hundred and fifty people attended the gathering.  The Friends Minister opened the session with a prayer and a description of how these types 

             of services are conducted.  He said that all of us

             had the opportunity to pray in silence or speak to the group.  The balance of personal meditation and community sharing seemed quite appropriate for a group like ours.

                  

             The Hall was a wooden rectangular-shaped building that was oriented with the long-side running east and west.  To the north of the room was a modest stage 

             where Mr. McHarg's family and dearest friends were seated facing an audience nestled in wooden pews.  Behind the family were three large windows that opened to a bright blue sky and the silhouettes of two old and beautiful deciduous trees--perhaps Elms or Beech.  The mid-afternoon light, with the sky, created a 

             stunning backdrop for the dialogue to follow.

                  

             A number of Mr. McHarg's relatives, friends and colleagues elected to speak to the audience. Each speaker shared insights about McHarg, often imitating a characteristic or trait of the man they knew so well and loved so dearly.  Many 

             of the speakers shared stories that brought easy laughter to the crowd while others simply took our breath away.  

                  

             "He's probably stating his position on the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to the Lord right now and convincing Him that his point of view is the correct one", said one friend.  "He gave me a chance to do something good with my life 

             when no one else would" said  a former student.  "The area outside his office was filled with dignitaries, government leaders, students and politicians waiting to see him--it was anarchy" said a former student and professor.  

             

            "He was unique because he possessed a generosity of spirit" said one of his long-time colleagues.  "More than an environmental leader and educator, he as wonderful and he was my Father" said one of his sons.  You couldn't help but feel that these tributes could have easily gone on into the night.

                  

             The turnout was impressive at many different levels.  Ian's immediate family and relatives from Scotland and other locations attended.  Some talked of his life and special personal qualities.  The stories were both familiar, amusing and 

             offered new insights about a man who made everyone feel like they were his good friend. 

                  

             All of the family seemed struck by the turnout and the expressions of admiration

             from his colleagues.  One couldn't help but wonder if this type of admiration for your husband, father or brother could ever be anything but 

             special.  Many seemed somewhat stunned by both his absence and his presence.

                  

             Professionally the meeting hall was a virtual "who's who" directory of landscape architects and regional planners that represented the fifty years 

             of McHarg's career.  Practitioners from government, the private sector, universities and business crowded together listening ever so intently for more information about Mr. McHarg and his traits, ecological theories, projects and achievements. It seemed like another of his speeches or lectures if you didn't know why everyone came to Union Grove that day.

                  

             The service ended and turned into a brief reception before leading to a gathering at the McHarg residence.  Although there was as much 

             celebration as sadness, within the big and beautiful old home, it was obviousness to everyone that a space had been created where there was none before.  Old friendships seemed to resurface as we sensed a heightened awareness to what we have and what we have lost. 

                  

             It will take all of us a long time to adjust to this new space in our lives. For some the adjustment will be so much harder than for others.  With each daily routine, conversation or reflection we will be reminded and better understand how much Ian McHarg's presence meant.  

                  

                  

             J. Glenn Eugster

             Alexandria, Virginia

             March 15, 2001

Good Friends, Gone---Tom McFalls Remembered

Tom McFalls Remembered

By J. Glenn Eugster

November 8, 2007

I first met Tom McFalls in 1993 while we were working with about 75 others on the Delmarva Peninsula’s Atlantic Flyway Byway trying to protect migratory bird habitat and local cultural values while stimulating the economy through nature and culture based tourism.

We didn’t start to get to know each other until a February 24, 1994 conversation we had about plans that the community of Havre de Grace, Maryland had.  Tom invited me to visit and meet some of his friends and colleagues.  Tom was looking for money and assistance but he was also playing a match-maker, sharing innovative and creative ideas, and enjoying life and hard work.

He diligently pursued the grant money I was helping to secure and distribute, unfortunately without a great deal of success.  However, as Tom would often say, he stayed in the hunt.

As I began to work with Tom I realized that he was a very unique and talented man both professionally and personally.  For example, in September 1994 he asked me if the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency’s (EPA) Chesapeake Bay Program office, where I worked at the time, had any plans for the April 1995 Earth Day celebration.  He invited us to join

Havre de Grace and we said yes.  We hadn’t made any plans that far in advance and my boss was most interested in having EPA be more connected with and supportive of local governments.

In March of 1995 staff from the White House contacted EPA and asked us if we had any plans for Earth Day that were close to Washington, DC.  The President and Vice President wanted to do some type of public event.  We submitted the Havre de Grace event---the McFalls’ Plan, to the White House staff, and on April 21, 1995 the President, Vice President, and Governor, along with two U.S. Senators, a member of the U.S. House of Representatives, state and local elected officials and about 2,000 others attended the Earth Day celebration.

I smiled for months about the good fortune that Tom had brought our office and Havre de Grace.  It was then I became a disciple of Tom McFalls.  Over the years he would engage me in his work with the Greater Brandywine Village area; the Pencader Heritage area; Iron Hill Park; the Lower Delaware River heritage corridor in Delaware and New Jersey; a sports heritage trail in Delaware and Pennsylvania; the Overfalls Lightship in Lewes; and the senior centers in Wilmington and Newark.  At the time he left us we were working on ideas for a possible national park in Delaware.

Tom also engaged me in his efforts to assist the Havre de Grace-Lower Susquehanna River Heritage Area in Maryland and the St. Agnes Medical Center in Philadelphia.  We would talk about a cause and I would almost always agree to join a team of people that he was working with, or recruit a pro-bono team of experts from Washington, the Eastern Shore, Annapolis, Philadelphia, and even Pencader in South Wales. 

He introduced me to innovative ideas, wonderful places, and talented people such as Cecil and Kathryn Hill, Alan Fair, Brandy Davis, David Menser, Jim Neal, Sue Gettman, Betty Talley, his wife Catherine, and many, many others.

Tom had a quiet enabling type of leadership style that made him easy to work with.  He was confident but quite modest.  He was a team builder.  He loved his wife Catherine, his family and his work.  He always wanted to help people and worthy causes.  Once he embraced a cause, for himself or one of the organizations that he worked with, he was relentless in his pursuit of the goal that he and his partners had.  And as a result of his skill, style and persistence, success seemed to follow Tom and his partners around like a friendly dog.

He wasn’t just about work however. Over the years we shared baseball and our sports histories, stories about our families, the challenges of life, his work with different social and spiritual causes, and how individuals can make a difference in people’s lives.  He was always open to the possibilities that life, relationships, friendships and partnerships offer.  He had a generosity of spirit.  He was a wonderful person and as smart a man as I have met.

I’ve worked for the federal government for more than 30 years and I average nearly 1,000 inquiries a year from the leaders that we assist and serve.  I can count on both hands the people that I’ve helped that are long-time personal friends.  I’m fortunate, and very proud, to be able to say that Tom McFalls was my friend.  He remains with me now in the people, places and causes we shared.  I miss him dearly and will never forget the time I shared with him.  

Tom would often close a conversation or leave a telephone message by saying, “Take care my friend.”  As I join you today in this celebration of his life, I find myself looking to the heavens and softly saying, “Tom, take care my friend”.

Thank you!

The New York Turkey-Run

The New York Turkey-Run

By J. Glenn Eugster

November 30, 2009

My wife Deborah and I left for Greenvale, NY on Wednesday November 25, 2009 at 6:00 am. It was still very dark in Alexandria, VA and our plan was to coffee-up and then drive 277 miles to visit Aunt Stella.   Elm Street has long been the destination for a family gathering at Thanksgiving and this year we added a day to the visit so that we could spend some extra time with my aunt. The "Turkey-Run" isn’t as easy as it was when we were younger but it is still a very special occasion.

Our drive to Greenvale was without incident. We seemed to be ahead of traffic and our EZ-Pass made cruising the interstate highways that much easier. About half-way there we visited the Walt Whitman Rest Area on the NJ Turnpike for Starbucks coffee and a quick pee, and soon we were calling Aunt Stella advising her of our arrival time. Aunt Stella doesn’t like to be surprised or rushed, and arriving forty-five minutes earlier than we initially promised would have added to her holiday stress. Holiday stress-balls were once an accepted, almost expected, part of Thanksgiving but no more.

Once inside we talked with Aunt Stella, drank coffee and ate some turkey and Swiss cheese sandwiches, with brown mustard, on hard rolls, in her kitchen. After lunch we walked down Elm Street to Orvis and several other stores near her home. After Deborah made a few purchases I walked back to the house to get the car and pick up the shoppers to ferry them across the busy Northern Boulevard to TJ Max. Although Black Friday wasn’t for another 36 hours Deborah and Aunt Stella were into the holiday shopping mood. It was clear that my role was to serve as their caddy and chauffer during this part of our visit.

After their afternoon spree we headed to the Greenvale Townhouse Restaurant for an early evening meal. As always there was a variety of special meals to choose from complete with fluffy rolls, tossed salads--or creamy soups, a hearty main course and desert. The combination of carbohydrates, protein, and sugar gave each of us a downward boost that landed us on Aunt Stella’s couch and an early evening that night.

Deborah and I left Aunt Stella’s to check-in to our hotel, the Glen Cove Mansion Hotel located near the North Shore of Long Island. We planned to shower and get to bed as soon as we got to the hotel. Aunt Stella no doubt got a second-wind and spent the next several hours enjoying some of her favorite shows on digital cable television. Although the switch from an antenna on the roof to cable television was not without some stress-balls, eventually our aunt embraced the spirit of technology in this small but important way.

Thanksgiving morning we returned to Aunt Stella’s to have the traditional holiday brunch of coffee, sliced oranges--from California, never Florida, Polish Kielbasa, Swiss cheese, and hard rolls. Most of my life I’ve gone to my Aunt’s for Thanksgiving and almost every time I did I ate this wonderful pre-big-meal breakfast. This year Pumpkin pie was offered to top-off brunch but we passed knowing that a table of pies and cakes was waiting for us at the 1:00 dinner seating.

My aunt offered to cook a turkey this year but we wanted to treat her to a meal. She suggested the Greenvale Townhouse but we urged her to let us pick another place. With apprehension she said okay. We picked the restaurant at the Glen Cove Mansion which featured a holiday buffet that included a traditional turkey dinner. The Mansion was once the home of the Pratt Family and it had the feeling of a very large old hotel with well manicured grounds, stately old trees, and views of Long Island Sound.

Our meal at the Mansion was wonderful. We arrived early, naturally, and Aunt Stella and Deborah ordered Mimosa’s to begin. We talked easily until other guests began to serve themselves from the expansive buffet tables located in the center of the main dinning room. Each of the buffet tables was artistically designed with flowers, ice sculptures and other decorations to supplement the delicious offerings. In addition to traditional turkey, sweet potatoes, dressing, cranberries, and gravy, were tables with grilled salmon, Prime Rib, vegetables of all types, ham, three types of pasta, beef, chicken, and all their accompaniments. On a table set to one side was an array of pies, canolis, cakes, and cookies.

Each of us ate leisurely and after the first course we engaged in wonderful heartfelt conversation about Aunt Stella’s time with John and how her relationship with him influenced her life. As we sat and listened to Aunt Stella share her private thoughts we felt fortunate to be a part of this conversation.

As we moved through two more courses, including desert and coffee and tea, we continued talking about family members, past and present, almost unaware that nearly three hours had passed. We probably could have talked for hours if it wasn’t for the wait-staff pacing back-and-forth hoping that we would leave so they could ready the tables for the 4:00 pm seating.

Wandering through the hotel after our meal we joked about the last part of the Thanksgiving. In years past Aunt ZuZu would often wait for two or three hours after dinner before asking everyone, "Who wants pizza?" We all agreed, with a bit of a moan, that pizza wasn’t possible this year.

We drove away from the Mansion and decided to drive to the beach at Bayville. We sat in the car looking out across LI Sound toward Connecticut until Deborah suggested that we walk the beach as we had done in years past. The weather was cooler but not cold, as we wandered along the shore looking for unique rocks of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Deborah was hunting for smooth white granite stones that she would could carry home and arrange next to a statue she has of the Blessed Mother. Aunt Stella and I seemed to be looking for a stone or two to carry away perhaps as a keepsake.

The chill came and moved us quickly to the car as the sun set and darkness approached. We drove through the stores in Locust Valley remembering other visits we made and special clothes or carvings we purchased, wishing that the shops were open and we were more energetic.

Once back in Greenvale we took a few minutes to discuss what we would do on Friday. Secretly we may have wanted to participate in the great American tradition of Black Friday shopping but this year we had other tasks to get to. Since John’s illness and eventual death Aunt Stella hasn’t been able to get around as easily as she once did to do basic errands. Part of our proposal to Aunt Stella was that we would spend one day of our visit helping her with things she needed to do. Friday‘s menu included trips to the bank, jeweler, drug store, grocery store, and laundromat.

Friday morning started with coffee, NY Bialy’s, oranges, and scrambled eggs. After breakfast while Aunt Stella was organizing what she needed to take with us I fixed and filled her bird-feeder, replaced the battery in her smoke alarm, and caught up on my NY papers which there were many of.

Our Tour-de-Tasks was quite pleasant and filled with driving commentary about places, buildings, people and stories. As we passed the house that Aunt Stella was born in, we learned that when her father died his wake was held in the living room of their house for three days while the neighbors paid their respects. Although the room was small it wasn’t a problem until Aunt Stella had to go to the basement, on the other side of the casket, to get something for her mother. She told us that she had to crawl under her Dad’s coffin to get to the door and that was a bit unnerving.

Aunt Stella also told us about how her mother would give her father an orange, always California, never Florida, to take to eat with his lunch. She explained how he worked on an estate with other men and a normal day found their hands quite soiled by lunchtime. He would encourage grandma instead to "give the orange to the children".

As we drove around between tasks Aunt Stella also shared stories of the house my parents and I lived in within the Lewis and Valentine Nursery which at the end of Elm Street. She also shared stories about how her family’s movements in the area and how they decided to purchase the house on Elm Street to own their own home. With a memory as sharp as ever Aunt Stella shared first-time facts and folklore with Deborah and me that reflected the depth and breadth of her experience in the area.

As we concluded the tasks, as we often do, we took a brief drive around the Sea Cliff community eventually winding our way to Tapen’s Beach near Glenwood Landing. Although the wind was blowing and the temperature had dropped, we enjoyed the brief ride through the park. The area was yet another touchstone for the three of us and it brought back memories of days sunbathing on the beach, swimming with family members and friends.

As the sun began to drop we decided it was Italian Night and we would eat at the restaurant that replaced one of our dinner-out favorites--Sal’s.  Our meal that evening gave us more time to continue the discussions we never seem to have time for. All the while we worked our way through appetizers, salads, entries, and desert, we talked, listened, shared, laughed and if it wasn’t for our fatigue the wonderful evening would have lasted forever.

The last day in Greenvale included a pancake breakfast out, a trip to  St. Patrick's Cemetery to visit family members, and a stop at the Nursery and Garden Center that Aunt Stella and Deborah favor for Christmas decorations. The decorations reminded us that all though the NY Turkey-Run was at its end nearby on the horizon was Christmas and New Years. Although time has changed just about everything in our lives, we are periodically reminded at holidays like Thanksgiving that family gatherings are places were we can reconnect with the people we love and enjoy being with.

　

The End of the 50's

Good grief!  Could it be that you are on the verge of the final lap for the 50's?  Yes my dear you are that old.  Being old isn't for sissies but you knew that when you were a teen angel. 

Getting old isn't all it's cranked-up to be from where I sit.  Once you get into the 60's the body parts start to get out of wack.   You can feel your arteries and internal plumbing start to clog.  Country music is so much more relevant.  You spend more time in the porcelain room when no one else is around.  Your kids don't recognize your voice let alone listen to you.  Your hair falls out, your gums and your butt drop and flatulence follows you around like a friendly dog.  If you thought the 50's was difficult transition, the 60's will keep you up at night.  Cormac McCarthy wrote, "One of the things you realize about getting older is that not everybody is going to get older with you". 60 is still a stigma of being old and the discounts just aren't that great.

Many of the baby-boomers talk about how great the 50's and 60's were.  They must mean the time period although I'm not sure if I believe that those two decades were so wonderful.  My sense is that the further away you get from something, and perhaps someone, the better and better it or she/ he looks.  Oh, wow, I remember the 50's.  But say hey Willie, you aren't out of the 50's yet!

As you enter the last lap of being 50 something you need to squeeze the juice out of this part of your life like it was a sweet orange.  Not necessarily crazy stuff but perhaps a new or adjusted approach to the way you live your life.    Given my four year and seven-day head start on you I offer these lessons for the last days of being 59.  Although these ramble a bit perhaps there is some wisdom you can extract or translate from what follows.

First, thank God each morning and night for another day and for all you have been given.  St. Ignatius will tell you that you are fortunate that God hasn't turned his head and sent you to another world.  God does love you.  Ask Him for grace and knowledge so that you might better love and serve him.

Second, live each day as if it's the last day you have.  No, no, no, that doesn't mean pig out on food, soaps, pills, or Lifetime movies.  Treat everyone you encounter as if it were the last time you were seeing them.  Share the generosity of spirit that is within you with family, friends, and strangers--just not too strange strangers.  Remember, we don't know the time or the hour......and "This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time", from the Fight Club.

Third, talk and listen to the people you enjoy and care about.  Everyone has a story to tell or an idea to share.  Stewart O'Nan wrote, "Lately it seems there are mysteries everywhere as if you've only just opened your eyes".

Fourth,  take your health more seriously than before.  Make believe you have health problems and err on the side of being too thorough and cautious.  Get checked by real doctors, exercise, give up something you love for Lent, think healthy, and meditate.

Fifth,  celebrate the small joys in your life, and in the lives of your family.  Give people and yourself a reason to smile at the small things that go well.  Sully once said, "Happiness is a place-saver between tragedies".

Sixth, take time out for yourself and do something every so often that means a great deal to you.  Decide what you really like to do that you don't have time to do anymore--and do it.  No, it doesn't mean dressing-up farm animals, but rather the small passions of your life that you never have time for.

Seventh,  keep your wits no matter how crazy the environment is.  I worked with a guy named Daniel Martin from Northern Ireland.  He once said, "My life is not this steeply sloping hour in which you see me hurrying".

Eight, love the love of your life in new and different ways.  Love and marriage blossoms if you let it the relationship express itself.  St. Francis said, although not necessarily about marriage, "It is in giving that we receive".  It's a good bit like religion, fishing and AA, it works if you work it.

Nine, be open to the ideas and opinions of others but don't give up who you really are.  Larry Brown wrote that Barlow, in "Big, Bad, Love",.."couldn't get anyone to do what he wanted but at least he knew what he wanted".  The Lord's Prayer, each morning and night, reminds me that "Thy will be done".

Finally, 59  is a nice number and you don't look a day over 43, so take time and enjoy this last year of the 50's.   The world and my life is a far, far better place with you in it.  Keep-on keepin-on! 

Giggling Mouth

Wilmington, NC Undated--A family was rescued from the mouth of the Cape Fear River this afternoon where their boat had run aground on a sandbar. Evidently, according to two of the children and one adult, the group purchased wax lips at a local store following lunch. As the boat pulled away from the dock family members "put on" their lips causing laughter, chaos and confusion on the small craft.  Reports indicate that the captain of the boat was temporarily distracted while the boat was swept by the current and strong tides into the sandbar.  

Boat cruises to the Cape Fear have been increasingly popular over the years since the movies about the river staring Robert Mitchum and Robert DiNero were released.  Although the sale of wax lips doesn't include a warning label local tourism officials often caution visitors to use them with care and to avoid boating, driving autos, eating sushi, and playing miniature golf. The family members who continually giggled afterward soon boarded the freed boat and continued their tour.